


the golden sleep

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series, 悪魔城伝説 | Castlevania lll: Dracula's Curse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, M/M, Magic, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Spells & Enchantments, fairy tale romance, it's my fanfic and i get to choose the au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 03:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18683659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: “Do not go where eyes shine red from every shadow,” they all said. “That’s where Dracula, the King of Vampires resides.”





	the golden sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Sleeping Beauty/fairy tale AU where Dracula casts a dark spell over every kingdom in the land while a disgraced prince and a travelling magician race to stop him and rescue his son, who he’s trapped in an eternal, death-like sleep.

The lonely prince lived in a castle of night and thorns. A place consumed by shadows where nothing green ever grew. Which was why he took every possible opportunity to leave. As the sun rose over the mountains surrounding his kingdom, the prince would quietly slink out through the gates then promptly return just before the moon and stars blanketed the night sky. For he was the only one in his father’s court whom the sun adored. He could stand outside in the middle of the day and remain unharmed.

One day, the prince waited as light shone through every crack and crevice of his home. The king, along with other occupants, fled towards their darkened corners. Skittering into empty coffins as creatures of the night always do in the face of daylight. Until at long last, the castle grew silent.

A perfect chance for the prince to make his temporary escape. He tied up his high boots while strapping a crossbow against his back and a thin sword by his hip. One was for hunting, the other for his own defense despite him never needing to use it. No mortal human ever dared to step foot in the woods. It was where the prince always fled to, his own sanctuary. Though its trees were dense and its foliage lush, full of bountiful nature, everyone knew better. One step too far, and a distracted hunter would find themselves stumbling upon a domain few returned from.

“Do not go where eyes shine red from every shadow,” they all said. “That’s where Dracula, the King of Vampires resides.”

The prince climbed over large roots protruding from the mossy ground, skipping over crystal blue streams with grace and ease. He never called himself a vampire. All his life, he knew he was different from his father and members of his court. He bore the same fangs, the same strength, and could transfigure himself into a hoard of bats or a swift wolf whenever he willed it. But there was his ability to endure the sun without pain or discomfort and his aversion to blood. The prince knew how his father acquired such a liquid and thus never drank it, instead filling his cup with the strongest and reddest of wines.

There were many titles gifted to him—the golden prince due to his hair and eyes, the one who walks among sunlight, then Adrian, the name his long-gone mother chose for him. He loved that name, as he loved his mother despite only knowing her for a short time. Yet as he grew into an adult, he came to give himself a new name, one that stood against the king. A representation of how he was the very antithesis of his father.

Further into the forest, the prince stopped to rest on a fallen tree. He sat in deep thought, still as the hardest stone. The animals saw his calm demeanour and felt drawn to him. Too small, quick, and clever to be considered real game, so he let them join him for now. A lonely prince grateful for some company.

He longed to leave the castle, forever. It was his wish, his dream, and his hope. _Where would I go?_ Time and time again he asked himself that question. In the forest with his animals and towering trees? Or towards other kingdoms with their human subjects? Would there ever be a place for a prince like him?

His melancholy thoughts were cut short by the sound of sticks breaking and leaves rustling off in the distance. The animals’ hairs stood on edge as they ran off, scattering in all different directions. They knew it was neither the wind nor a creature like themselves causing that commotion. The prince stood erect; one hand steady at his sword while the other hovered near his crossbow. He listened as the noise drew closer.

Feelings of suspicion escalated when a dark horse trotting through the shrubbery emerged, a cloaked figure close by its side. The distance between them shortened until the stranger’s wandering gaze found the prince.

Dark auburn hair (in need of a good combing), the early signs of stubble upon his chin, and garb similar to that of a hunter’s. Though draped around his shoulders was a coat with fur whiter and larger than a cloud. An article of clothing common amongst royalty. They stood apart, both looking just as bewildered as the other.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on edge,” the man dressed in furs spoke. His voice was deep with a ruggedness to it. “I thought I was alone.”

“As did I. It’s rare to see a human in these woods. No one ever comes here.”

“Well, I was on my way home, but… I think I might have gotten lost.”

The prince noticed small remnants of leaves stuck in his hair and cloak. “I can see that. Where were you going?”

“To the north, that’s where my kingdom is.”

“Kingdom?” _So, he is of royalty._ “What is your title?”

“Prince Trevor of the Belmont Lineage. My mother and father are King and Queen of the Hunters.” He said it with pride, holding his head high. “And yours?”

The golden prince said nothing at first. His mind was too focused on the name Belmont. Dracula always spoke of them with a burning hatred, for the two kingdoms had been at war long before either prince was born. When they weren’t fighting, there was a never-ending sense of dread concerning the next battle. When it would happen, where it would happen, and who would strike first.

The prince never hated the Belmonts as much as his father did and he never wanted to fight. He simply longed for peace. But if he revealed the name he chose to defy Dracula, would Trevor realize the truth and attack without thinking? He quickly decided on the safest response, despite it feeling somewhat untrue to himself.

“Adrian. Just Adrian.” He said, making sure his fangs remained obscured.

“Are these your woods, Adrian?”

“They don’t belong to anyone but the animals, but I do live on the other side. And I visit quite often.” The prince turned around and gestured for Trevor to follow him. “Come. I will show you a path that will lead you out of here and due north.”

“That’s very generous of you, but it’s not necessary. I can find my own w—”

“I wouldn’t take my offer lightly. You’ll get even more lost in this particular forest if you don’t have someone to guide you.”

Though surprised by his bluntness and persistence, Trevor and the horse followed Adrian diligently until they came to a much more substantial path. “This will take you to the northern most road. Remember not to stray and you will find your way back home.”

“Thank you. You really do know your way around this forest.” Trevor paused, noticing that some animals decided to tag along after realizing there was no danger. “Can I see you again? It must get lonely here with no one else around.”

“… it does get lonely. In more ways than one.”

“Then I’ll come back. In three days, I’ll meet you right here where we’re standing.”

“Oh… alright. Three days, then.” It was all happening so fast, what else could he say? But he did not regret it. Adrian watched as Trevor mounted his horse and turned to him.

“You’re strange, but interesting. I’ll see you in three days. I promise.” He then rode off, leaving the other prince a little dumbfounded. He had to remind himself that everything—their encounter and the words they exchanged—was real. Of course, it would be a risk seeing the son of his sworn enemy a second time, but Adrian took risks every day. Would one more really make the difference? And part of him wanted to be friends with this Prince Trevor.

The lonely prince wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.

 

* * *

 

Trevor kept his promise. Three days following their first meeting, he went back into the woods and down the same path. He waited at the very end, keeping both an eye and ear out for the strange yet interesting prince. His patience was soon rewarded as a familiar head of long hair the colour of amber honey emerged from the trees. Trevor greeted Adrian with a smile, who gave him a small but genuine one in return.

The hours they spent together passed like minutes. More and more they found themselves enjoying each other’s company. Trevor felt soothed by Adrian’s presence and Adrian liked the way Trevor made him laugh. When it came time to part ways, the two princes made a pact to meet the next day. And they did so; again, and again, and again. Adrian snuck out of Dracula’s castle as he always did. Trevor made his own excuses to leave home for a few hours.

For them, the forest’s gifts were plentiful. Together they swam in ponds, tested their swordsmanship during playful sparring matches, and finally took their rest in meadows. Comfortably nestled amongst the soft grass and flowers, using Trevor’s fur cloak as a blanket. Underneath a green canopy, they were protected; secluded from the outside world and safe from their families’ war.

Adrian still couldn’t bring himself to expose the truth. He wanted to maintain that aura of safety for as long as possible. But he needed to know something.

“Trevor…” He asked, looking over at the Belmont’s calm expression as they lay side by side. “What do you know of Dracula?”

“What do I know?” Trevor pondered over his answer. “Not much, I suppose. Nobody does. He’s been a mystery for centuries.”

“But do you think he’s truly evil?” A question Adrian asked himself even as a child. He never wanted to believe that his father was a monster, but there were doubtful moments.

“My family certainly thinks that. What do you think?”

“Well… I’ve heard that Dracula fell in love.”

Trevor sat up. “With who?”

“With a human.”

“That’s impossible. Where did you hear this story?”

“Just listen. It was a long time ago when he met a woman named Lisa. She was a healer and Dracula adored her because he thought she was the sun incarnate.”

“Like you.”

Adrian’s cheeks flushed pink, both out of embarrassment and the fear that Trevor was catching onto the truth behind his story. “Some villagers discovered that Lisa had married the King of Vampires and accused her of dark magic. She fled to her clinic and they burned it down with her trapped inside.”

“That’s terrible. But it’s just a story, right?”

“Perhaps. But if Dracula was once capable of love, do you think it’s possible that your family could end their war with him?”

“It’s a nice thought to have. I certainly hope the war ends one way or another. Then everyone will be safe, not just us.” Trevor lay back onto his cloak while Adrian sighed. He lowered himself until his cheek was pressed against the Belmont prince’s chest.

“I hope it ends too.” _One day_ , he thought. The feeling of Trevor gently stroking his long hair lulled him into a light sleep. _One day I will reveal everything. And the war between our families will be over._

 

* * *

 

As the hot summer faded into a cool autumn, Trevor rushed out of the Belmont palace and straight towards their meeting place with the same excitability as every other day. When he arrived, he found himself waiting though he didn’t mind. As long as his friend eventually joined him.

Time passed and still Trevor waited, alone. Longer and longer until the sun began to wane. He had no choice but to leave before the roads got too dark. Riding back home, Trevor looked over his shoulder at the edge of the forest as it grew smaller with each second. That night, he lost sleep wondering about the many theories as to why Adrian wasn’t there—some more disheartening than others.

Maybe he had forgotten or was busy with other affairs. Maybe he grew tired of Trevor’s company and didn’t want to tell him outright, fearing me might break the other prince’s heart. Maybe something worse had happened.

The Belmont let a few more days pass before trying again. His second attempt was followed by a third, fourth, then an agonizing fifth. _Don’t be disappointed. People in your life will come and go all the time. There will be others._ Not even those thoughts, rational as they might have been, were able to convince Trevor. For there were no letters, no words whatsoever from Adrian. It was as though the man and all those days they spent together—the laughter they shared, the banter, and moments when their hands touched, fingers interlacing with each other’s—never really existed.

The very notion sent him into a state of boredom and dejection. He went about his duties as all princes did, but he walked with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Yet the worst was still to come and no one, not Trevor nor anyone else in the kingdom, could fathom it.

When grey clouds blocked out the sun and the wind howled like a terrible omen, King Gabriel and Queen Sonia Belmont led a small army into Dracula’s domain. They had waited too long and now was the time to strike again. Riders held their banners high, waving in the breeze while shields and armour plates proudly displayed the Belmont sigil. Moral amongst the hunters and their two leaders was steadfast; they needed another victory. As the seemingly untouchable castle drew closer, the skies began to darken until the whole world was engulfed in shadows. The Belmonts stood their ground.

Only one poor hunter with a broken bow, an empty quiver, and a bloodied rag tied around his face returned carrying a message for the prince. He couldn’t recall the entire battle for both his eyes had been scratched out by one of Dracula’s creatures. But he did remember the clashing of blades, the inhuman snarls, and the desperate shouts calling for retreat before they were hastily silenced.  

“What of my mother and father?” Trevor asked.

The hunter forced himself to speak. “Before I lost my sight, I saw them at Dracula’s feet. He towered over us, like he was part of the very blackened sky he created… neither of them were moving.”

Trevor’s heart sank into his stomach. He stumbled up the tower steps and into his bedchamber as the survivor cried out “Dracula has become more powerful than ever”. Those terrible words echoed throughout the palace.

On that day while the orphaned prince shed his quiet tears, the sun disappeared.

 

* * *

 

People found ways to live in the everlasting darkness. Lanterns adorned the streets and the Belmont palace was aglow with thousands of candles. Trevor couldn’t accept the title of King Belmont; he wasn’t ready to be king. Not only that, he believed he didn’t deserve it. He extended his mourning period by drowning himself in bottles of wine and pints of ale. Ending the days sadder than he began them. Sympathy for him turned into impatience, then finally into sad, pitying looks.

Then the thorns began to grow. It started in the southern most cities; vines with spikes like iron crawled along the roads, scaled the stone walls, and invaded every home. The citizens felt as though they had to stay frozen in place, too afraid to move in fear of impaling themselves upon the unusually large thorns. Despite all best efforts, they kept cutting their arms, legs, and faces. Blood fell like drops of rain, which the creeping plants drank up hungrily, becoming stronger and faster. They spread across the land, devouring all in their path.

After the thorns came the creatures, some with eyes red as the darkest rubies, others bluer than the coldest ice. They skittered into the cities, villages, and castles on their bat-like limbs, bearing their sharp fangs, more ravenous than the vines.

The last son of the Belmont Lineage watched from the window of his bedchamber at the very same iron thorns consuming his kingdom. Just as they had done with all the others. He listened to the ugly shrieks of night creatures reviling in their carnage. Trevor knew the source of this dark, inescapable magic that held the world in its grasp. Yet he hesitated; he was only one man, a disgraced prince who let himself wallow in misery for too long. If the king and queen could not defeat Dracula, then pray tell, how could he?

Trevor’s duty to his people outweighed his doubts. He saw their fear and decided to act. _I might be victorious_ , he thought. _Or I might join my mother and father. But I have never been afraid of death._

Portraits of Belmont rulers long since gone stared down as Trevor retrieved all he needed from the arsenal room. A set of armour worn by Gabriel, a chain whip known as the Morningstar used by Sonia, and a longsword with ruby embellishments forged by his oldest ancestor. Lastly, with a sober hand Trevor slipped a familiar cloak around his shoulders. There was an odd sort of comfort in wearing it. As though his old rag with dirtied white fur was his true armour, not the silver plates gracing his body and limbs.

Riding out of the palace, Trevor made short work of the thorns that entrapped his home. Slicing them with his sword as they briefly cried out in pain, spilling blood that did not belong to them. The Morningstar sang its own song, choking night creatures while they burst into blood and flames. His kingdom had been freed and, for now, was safe.

Trevor made it to the fields where he came across a humble caravan of blue-clad folk trying to defend themselves from a hoard of monsters whose eyes and fangs glowed unnaturally. The prince acted fast until the threat was no more. “Is anyone hurt?” He called out above the chorus of relieved murmurs.

“We are alright.” An older man stepped forward and took Trevor’s hand. “Thank you for saving us.”

“You shouldn’t be out in the open like this.”

“We are Speakers. It is our way of life to travel from city to city, kingdom to kingdom, in search of those who need our aid.”

“Speakers…” Trevor knew these people; or at the very least, his family did. The Speakers were old friends of the Belmonts. He recalled seeing the same blue robes walking down the halls of his palace when he was a child.

“What about you?” A much younger Speaker interrupted. “Why are you out here?”

“I am Trevor of the Belmont Lineage, prince to all hunters. Dracula has cursed the land, but I intend to stop him. Take refuge in my kingdom. You’ll be safe there for now.”

The Speakers were visibly reluctant. Most wanted Trevor to stay while others expressed a desire to join him, though he was adamant in carrying on alone. This was his duty, quest, and burden, no one else’s. The eldest Speaker spoke for the rest of his people.

“We do not agree with your choice, but we will respect it. They say the shortest way to Dracula’s castle is through the woods. But be cautious, young prince. My grandchild ran in there and has not returned. If you find them… at least bring their body back so that we may give them a proper burial.”

“I shall.”

Trevor watched as the Speakers ambled down the road, turning away only when certain they would have a safe arrival at his kingdom’s gates. He looked towards his and Adrian’s forest, made wholly unfamiliar by Dracula’s curse.

 

* * *

 

 _My grandchild ran in there and has not returned._ The elder Speaker’s weary words hung heavy in the prince’s conscience. All that time and the stories warning foolish travelers never crossed his mind. Never thought for a second that the King of Vampires ruled so close. Or perhaps there was a different reason. Perhaps he had always been aware of the stories, but never cared. The prince still came to cherish his forest.

Trevor’s thoughts turned to Adrian. Was he safe? Did he manage to escape the encroaching nightmare? The lack of answers filled Trevor with uncertainty, yet it drove him further towards his mission. He listened for any sound other than that of his own footsteps upon the dead foliage. There were no birds singing their cheerful hymns of welcome, no curious chirps from smaller creatures. In their place, burrowed among the browning grass and leaves, were bones.

The prince pushed himself and his horse as far as he could before the thorns surrounded them. They were birds trapped within a cage that bore a mind of its own, but Trevor’s sword hand was prepared. With the Morningstar also at the ready, the vines fell into pieces at his feet. The air was thick with ashes and the stench of burning blood.

Trevor let out a huff. This fight might have gone on for far longer without any loss of strength from him. So much of Dracula’s army was already dead because of him, and he was determined to be the death of many more. Even if he insisted on fighting alone. To rid his home of such a curse, to save countless lives, and to bring back the sun, the Belmont prince was willing.

Yet the fight ended just as quick as it began. The thorns retreated only for Trevor to soon realise that they were not acting like cowards. They were simply making way for another one of their comrades—a much, much larger one. Trevor’s expression changed into one of stunned disbelief as he came face to face with the cyclops. A creature tall as the oldest tree with hands and feet like boulders. With every heavy step, the ground shook under its massive stature. Taking one, emotionless look at the tiny prince, its singular eye began to shift.

Trevor ran for cover, urging his horse to do the same. A bright beam of light suddenly cut through the forest. Had the prince been caught in that fire; he would have turned to stone. A fate worse than death, as many claimed, for everyone that fell victim to the cyclops’ stare remained alive despite their stony prisons. Cursed to live an eternity, immovable and in agony. Trevor was torn attacking the brute outright or taking the time to better formulate a plan less likely to kill him.

Either way, he wasn’t given the chance to make a decision. The cyclops grabbed the prince by the end of his cloak and threw him into the trees. A weightless rag doll tossed around by a child. No broken bones, but Trevor’s head spun mercilessly and felt his poor, spent limbs ache with every subtle movement. He could barely continue dodging the cyclops’ attacks. The sound of its thunderous body making its way closer coupled with broken branches tumbling to the ground deafened him. Trevor held the whip in a death grip and prepared to throw his sword at his opponent.

There was no need for reckless action. Before the prince could carry out his plan (poorly thought out as it was), a hooded figure appeared just by the cyclops’ feet—a figure cloaked in blue. Raising their hands, a small light glowed from their fingertips, followed by a violent burst of fire. Flames surrounded the monster, obscuring its vision.

At first it seemed to be only a minor annoyance until the figure swayed their arms in a different pattern. Fire transformed into ice pikes, flying through the air, assaulting every inch of the cyclops. Finally, one drove itself into the giant’s eye. Trevor watched in amazement as its lifeless body collapses. The magician, his saviour, then turned around and marched straight up to the prince. They lowered their hood, revealing a head of messy strawberry blonde hair and a soft yet intensely determined face.

“Are you a fool? What were you thinking, fighting against a fully-grown cyclops with no magic?”

“I… thank you for saving me?”

“You’re welcome. But I shouldn’t have had to. You should know better than to be so reckless.”

Trevor recognised her strong accent, the same one he heard from the old man. “You’re a Speaker magician, aren’t you?” Along with their nomadic, altruistic lifestyle, the Speakers were well known for their powerful spell casters, bending magic to their will.

“That I am. I’m Sypha Belnades. And who might you be?”

“Prince Trevor of the Belmont Lineage.”

“A Belmont?” Sypha exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Doesn’t your kingdom need you?”

“I am out here _because_ my kingdom needs me. Dracula must be stopped and it is my quest to destroy him as it was my family’s. You on the other hand shouldn’t be here. Your grandfather is worried about you.”

Sypha refused to budge. “I cannot go back. We share the same quest, Trevor. The Speakers talk of a treasure that will undo Dracula’s curse. He keeps it locked away deep within his castle.”

“How do you know if this treasure really exists?”

“I don’t, but my people’s prophecies have never been wrong. We should go together.”

“No. I promised your family that I would find you and return you to them.”

“You can return me when we are successful. Besides, you won’t stop Dracula with only a sword and a whip.”

The prince had no energy to argue. With a defeated mumble, he agreed and signalled for his horse to come out of hiding. Sypha shot him a self-congratulatory smirk before climbing onto the animal’s back. They left the scene of chaos behind, their eyes fixated on the long journey ahead.

 

* * *

 

Trevor didn’t regret bringing along Sypha. She had proven to be an irreplaceable companion in more ways than one. Using her abilities, she burned Dracula’s thorns and cleared a path through the woods. During quieter moments, she spoke excitedly about magic, the Speakers’ history regarding the subject, and how she longed to improve upon her own powers.

“You should write a book on spell casting,” Trevor suggested. Sypha let an amused chuckle escape her lips.

“No. It isn’t the Speaker way to write down our histories and traditions, even when it comes to magic. We prefer to pass things down orally and keep stories within ourselves. That way our words have more strength and cannot be physically destroyed.”

“Of course.” Admittedly, Trevor didn’t fully understand but he still respected the way of the Speakers. Different as it might have been from that of the hunters. “Did your people say what this... treasure of Dracula’s is exactly?”

“They did not. They said it would bring back the sun and dispel all of Dracula’s creatures from the land—that’s all. That’s why he guards it so closely. So that his evil can continue interrupted. Without the sun, no one can stop his rule.”

“No one except us.”

Sypha gave Trevor a silent agreement. Following their fight with the cyclops, her opinion of the prince had steadily improved. No longer did she see him as a lucky fool who happened to have a sword on his belt and a crown upon his head. Whenever a hoard of night creatures blocked their path, Trevor cut them down with a deft hand. His skill with the Morningstar impressed her the most.

Under the light of a full blood moon, the two looked ahead and were greeted by a relieving yet eerie sight. A fortress with towers rising high like daggers protected by an impenetrable cage of thorns. The closer they tried riding, the more Trevor’s horse whinnied and stomped its hooves in protest. It nearly threw him and Sypha off its back when a pair of new monsters stopped them. One being a Minotaur and the other a massive crow with a skull for a face and a wingspan that dwarfed its own body. Trevor had read about the creature named Malphas in his family’s bestiary, more akin to a demon than purely a man or bird.

The minotaur crashed both of its fists against the ground and let out a guttural bellow that made the trees tremble. Trevor used the whip to catch around its horns and swing onto its back, slicing his blade across the beast’s neck. Malphas was quick and cunning, but not as much as Sypha with her spells. She scorched its wings, binding it to the ground, before using her ice pikes to break its skull and impale its head. Another fight, another small triumph. The end was in sight, they could both feel it in their hearts and stomachs.

They arrived at a long bridge where at the other end, waiting patiently for the prince and magician, lay the real battle. Towering over them as though part of the blackened sky, just as that wounded messenger once described.

“You must be the Belmont runt.” Dracula spoke in a low, deliberate, and calm voice—for the moment. He slowly turned to Sypha. “And you… reeking of Speaker magic.” He hoped to revel in their terrified expressions, but there were none. They had torn through countless inhuman followers to stand against him. Their defiant looks infuriated the King of Vampires.

“I will show you what true magic is!” He roared, summoning more of his iron thorns. Trevor and Sypha fought side by side, inching their way further down the bridge. Whip and sword, fire and ice, working together. When the thorns let out their dying shrieks and crumbled into ashes, Dracula resorted to his own flames. Sypha raised her hands and held them back, shielding Trevor, before throwing them back towards their maker.

The king’s eyes grew redder, wilder, filled with anger at his enemy’s constant retaliation. “Enough! I will not be defeated by two lowly mortals. All of humanity deserves to perish at my hand. No one takes my rule or my castle away from me!”

He bared his fangs and seemed to disappear into a blur of wispy shadows. The prince and magician watched, bracing themselves for more of the same attacks. What barrelled towards them instead was Dracula himself, transfigured into a night creature larger than Trevor had ever seen before. It crawled over the bridge, its claws tearing at the stone, breaking it into pieces.

Sypha kept the monstrous being at bay with her fire while Trevor swung the Morningstar about, hitting its most vulnerable spots. The thing that used to be Dracula, enraged beyond comprehension, suddenly grabbed hold of the chain. As the prince was thrown into the air, Sypha called out his name. Her voice cracked, heavy with fear for her companion’s life.

Trevor grit his teeth and let go in midair. Wielding his ancestor’s sword, he brought it down upon Dracula’s neck. Gravity finished the job for him. Trevor fell onto the bridge alongside the King of Vampire’s severed head. Blood seeped through the cracks between each stone. There was a moment of deathly silence before Dracula’s corpse erupted into smoke. A gust of wind carried it off into the night, disappearing entirely.

“Was that it?” Trevor said, his chest heaving. “Is it over?”

Sypha spun around; the thorns were growing, and she could hear the distant growls of night creatures making their way home. Then she remembered. “The treasure… come on!” Dracula might have been defeated, but his curse still covered the land. There was only one last thing the prince and magician had to do, then their quest would be complete.

Carefully climbing over the vines, they broke through into the castle, just as haunting and oppressive as the outside. With Sypha lighting the way, they scoured down every corridor, searching the darkness for anything that might bring the sun back. Trevor kept his eyes open for a spell book or reliquary; a physical object. He was unprepared for what they found deep in the castle’s catacombs.

At the farthest end was a grand, lavish bed and canopy encased by smaller thorns. The two humans looked closer and saw that someone was lying underneath the covers. Someone Trevor recognized; he knew those locks of hair splayed out across the pillows, long and the colour of bright golden honey.

“Adrian!” Trevor rushed to his side, pushing aside the thorns. He said his name again while gently shaking his shoulders to no avail. Adrian’s eyes remained shut, face composed, and hands resting on his abdomen as though he were peacefully asleep.

“Did you know him?” Sypha asked quietly. Trevor couldn’t bring himself to face her.

“He… he was my friend. We met in the forest.” The question of what Adrian was doing in Dracula’s castle stirred in the prince’s mind until the answer made itself clear. His aloof nature, his story of the human doctor Lisa, and how he never opened his mouth too widely. Everything fit into place, a puzzle that Trevor should have solved a long time ago.

“You should have told me the truth…” He whispered. “I would have helped you.” It was too late for what ifs and apologies. All Trevor could do was give Adrian something he had been saving for the right moment. If only he didn’t have to give it in death. Leaning forward, he softly placed his lips upon Adrian’s.

There were no tears; the prince felt too exhausted for that. Sypha offered him some comfort by rubbing his back. “Trevor… Trevor! Look!” Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he was witnessing a miracle. Adrian stirred in his bed, rubbing his eyes and letting out a tired groan. Just as though he were sleeping.

“Trevor… is it really you? Did you wake me?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s really me.” He cupped Adrian’s face in both hands. “This is Sypha. We defeated Dracula together.”

Sypha smiled joyfully and said her own introductions. “How did this happen, Adrian?”

“I tried convincing my father to stop the war with the Belmonts and turn away from evil. Being with Trevor gave me that hope. But the hatred he felt for humanity, a hatred that had been festering for so long, was too strong. When I confronted him, he slashed at my chest and cast an enchantment over me.” Adrian sat up and revealed a long scar across his breast.

“My mother and I were the only ones whom the sun adored. With me in a sleep-like death, Dracula could block out the sun forever.”

“But what broke the enchantment?”

“Trevor, you fool.” Alucard laughed as his arms wrapped around the prince of hunters’ neck. “You did! You broke the curse.” He planted kiss after kiss on Trevor’s mouth, cheeks, and chin. “True love’s first kiss was the only thing that could wake me. After my mother died, Dracula believed that it no longer existed, so he made sure I would sleep forever. But you woke me.”

Trevor was overcome with emotion—surprise, relief. Love. Their intimate reunion was interrupted by Sypha calling for them. “Come quick! Look at this!” Trevor helped Adrian out of bed and all three ran up the staircase to the nearest window. Over the horizon, the sun was beginning to rise as every vine and thorn faded into dust. Dracula’s castle didn’t feel so dark anymore. They had won.

The two princes and the magician rode back through the now reborn forest. Trevor and Adrian shared his horse while Sypha had her own, a wild one that had survived the nightmare. “Are you not sad about your father?” She asked Adrian, whose back was resting comfortably against Trevor’s chest.

“I am, but… it needed to be done. I would have done it myself had I not been under his spell. He was no longer my father and hadn’t been for a very long time.” After a somber moment, he turned to Trevor. “There’s one other thing I need to tell you. I have another name, which I gave to myself as an act against Dracula: Alucard. I know you’re more used to calling me Adrian.”

“Alucard or Adrian, I will call you whatever you please.”

“Actually… I like it when you say Alucard.”

 

* * *

 

The day that Trevor and Alucard’s kingdoms united was a joyous one. They greeted their people both as kings and Dracula’s castle was no longer a beacon of terror. Trevor’s lips occasionally touched the opening of a wine bottle, but his desire for the liquid was not as great as it had been in the past. Sypha and the other Speakers would forever be welcome in his growing kingdom and he saved a special gift for her in particular.

“The Belmonts have a library filled with grimoires, spell books, and other artifacts with magical properties. But it needs an official scholar, someone deserving of all that power. I can’t think of anyone else but you.”

Sypha wanted to jump into Trevor’s arms and embrace him until he coughed, but she remained courteous towards the king and thanked him profusely. “Trevor… there’s been something on my mind.”

“What is it?”

“The enchantment that Dracula cast over Alucard… he could have just done away with him for good with no way of reviving him. But instead he put him to sleep along with a cure. Perhaps part of Dracula couldn’t bear the thought of killing his only son.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Trevor lowered his gaze as a new feeling crept up on him. Not sadness, far from that, but more uncertainty.

“What’s wrong? Are you not happy?”

“I am. Alucard and I have never felt this happy before in our lives. But… do you think happily ever afters really exist?”

She shrugged and smiled all the same. “I don’t know. No one does. But no matter what, they’ll tell stories about how the King of Hunters fell in love with the sun for a long, long time to come.”


End file.
